


Omega Online

by miss_aphelion



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fluff, Humor, Imprinting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_aphelion/pseuds/miss_aphelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly imprinted Charles is having trouble dealing with his overly protective alpha—so in desperation he seeks advice in an omega chat room. Emma Frost is more than happy to help, Raven isn't helping at all, and Erik can't stand to be out of touch with Charles for more than five minutes at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/7736.html?thread=14838072) over on xmenkink. These kinkmemes are taking over my brain.

"Charles, you're scaring me," Raven says gently, reaching out to grab his hand. "Is he—is he hurting you? Because if he is, I don't care what the law says about imprinted couples, I will get you out of here, we can—" 

"What?" Charles says in bewilderment. "Hurting me? No, of course not! It's the complete opposite problem!" 

Raven frowns. "You want him to hurt you?" she asks warily. 

"No, no, you're not understanding," Charles says, and drops his head in his hands. "He's driving me crazy." 

"Charles, you're going to have to start from the beginning," Raven says in frustration. "I've not imprinted on anyone, I don't understand what it's like. Honestly the whole thing seems a bit far out, I mean, love at first sight? It's like one minute we were standing in line at Starbucks, then this crazy guy pushes me out of the way and starts mauling you, and next thing I know, you're married. I just need to know you're alright." 

"Erik is brilliant," Charles reassures her. "He is. And I love him, Raven, truly, it's like, meeting your other half, and suddenly you're whole, and—" 

"You can stop there," Raven says, holding up a hand. "You sound like a Hallmark card. So what exactly is the problem? You were completely freaked out on the phone, I drop everything to come here, and you're a mess, Charles, what—"

Charles pulls her closer conspiratorially. "I love Erik, but he's insane," he confides. "I mean, he's completely insane. You know all those stereotypes about alphas and how they're possessive and overprotective?" 

"Those are all completely blown out of proportion and you know it," Raven says. 

"I used to know it," Charles says. "Then I met Erik. I cut myself shaving this morning, Raven, and I had to talk him out of going to destroy Schick's headquarters. The man's a menace." 

Raven couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. "Oh my god," she says. "Charles, you always have the best problems. You're upset that he's too concerned for you?" 

"I was barely bleeding!" Charles says in disbelief. "Can you imagine if something actually happens to me? I'm worried for his blood pressure. He might spontaneously combust." 

Raven is still laughing. "I don't know what to tell you," she says. "Don't you know any imprinted omegas you could talk to?" 

"All my friends are alphas," Charles says forlornly. "Not that I can ever see any of them again, for fear that Erik will tear them apart." 

"You're overreacting, certainly," Raven says. 

"He's got this, this eye twitch," Charles tells her, waving his hands in illustration. "He gets it whenever I talk about other people. I've read the literature and I'm fairly certain this is just a result of our recent imprinting, and he should undoubtedly become, you know, saner, as time goes on, but I am going out of _my_ mind in the meantime!" 

"Why don't you just work on your dissertation?" Raven asks helpfully. "That always cheers you up." 

"It's hopeless," Charles says. "I'm too distracted. Usually when I feel like this I just go to a bar and get drunk and find some nice alpha—" 

Charles breaks off as Erik enters the room, his furious expression evidence he's definitely overheard that last bit. Charles wonders if maybe he's getting an eye twitch of his own. "And ask him to escort me home," he continues seamlessly, "as it is of course quite dangerous at night, and I would not wish to be mugged." 

Raven raises an eyebrow like, yeah, I'm sure that's what happened. Charles motions her to look behind her and she spins around, pushing herself back to drop down on the couch beside Charles at her new brother-in-law's furious expression. 

"I should hope that's all that happened," Erik says firmly, crossing his arms. "Hello, Raven." 

"Erik," Raven says. "Charles has just been telling me about married life. How's it treating you?" 

Erik's expression morphs into something less rampaging shark, and more lovesick puppy, and Raven recoils, clutching Charles' arm, more disturbed by this than the rage. 

"Wonderful," Erik says, turning to beam at Charles. "Charles is wonderful, isn't he?" 

"Does imprinting cause brain damage or what?" Raven mutters in Charles' direction. 

Erik narrows his eyes at her. "You don't think Charles is wonderful?" 

"He's a paragon of virtue, is Charles," Raven says cheerfully, grabbing her bag and getting to her feet. "Well, I should be getting home." 

Charles reaches out to try and grab her. "Raven, wait, Raven—" 

She easily sidesteps him and rushes towards the door. "Call me, Charles!" she says. "See ya, Erik!" 

"What was that all about?" Erik asks after Raven is gone. He drops to the couch and tugs at Charles. Charles laughs at him, before sliding over to straddle him. 

"Just visiting," he says. 

"Uh huh," Erik says, reaching down to cup Charles' ass. "And reminiscing about old times?" 

"You know I only have eyes for you," Charles reassures him, leaning down to kiss him passionately, laughing as Erik reaches up to steady his hips. Charles frowns and pulls back when Erik turns his head, muttering to himself. "What? What's wrong?" 

"Charles, there's a hole in your sweater," Erik says. He sounds devastated. 

"What?" Charles asks, looking down at his old favorite blue sweater. "Well, it's kinda old, but it's my favorite. It's fine, Erik. It's just a tiny hole." 

"We need to buy you a new sweater," Erik insists. "A whole new wardrobe, maybe. We can get you dozens of sweaters like this one." 

Charles rolls his eyes and climbs off Erik's lap, heading off to the bedroom. Erik leans over the back of the couch to watch him go. "Charles? What's wrong? Charles?" he calls. "What did I say?"

* * * * *

Charles carefully slips out from Erik's firm grip by scooting down the bed and then gracelessly to the floor. He looks quickly back to make sure Erik hasn't woken. He says something in his sleep, but drags Charles' pillow to his chest and rolls on top of it.

Charles gets to his feet and heads into the living room, dropping down in front of the laptop. He logs on and does a quick search; omega newly imprinted. 

A number of rather graphic pictures show up on the first page and Charles gasps. "What in the—" he quickly scrolls past them, and then clicks on something called 'Omega Online' in triumph. 

It's an advice board, and Charles scrolls through it briefly, absorbing a bunch of technical answers that really don't explain how to keep your adoring alpha from rampaging the unsuspected masses. He sees a link for a live chat, proclaiming, Newly Imprinted? Need advice? Live Chat With Dr. Hank!

"Well, he can't be worse at giving advice than Raven," Charles decides, and clicks on the link. 

[GROOVYGENES has entered the chat room]

IMASCREAMER: So anyway, I told him just like you said, I'm a perfectly capable of walking to the supermarket on my own. 

DRHANK: And how did he respond? 

IMASCREAMER: He was very reasonable. Then he proceeded to stalk me the whole way there.

DRHANK: Perfectly natural, I assure you. The chemistry involved with imprinting often affects the alphas far more than the omegas. They have a driving need to provide, and protect their omegas from any perceived threat. While this drive never goes away, it is most obvious in the first six months. 

GROOVYGENES: Six months? Are you kidding me? I've been married for three weeks and I'm about to have a breakdown. 

DRHANK: Welcome, GROOVYGENES

IMASCREAMER: LOL @ GROOVYGENES 

DRHANK: So you are facing similar issues, GROOVYGENES?

GROOVYGENES: You could say that. My alpha is insane. He's lovely, of course, but quite mad. 

DRHANK: You said you have only been married three weeks? When did the imprinting take place? 

GROOVYGENES: Three weeks and four days ago. 

DRHANK: That's quite fast. I can understand your concern. Did you have any counseling sessions prior to the marriage to learn what you might expect? 

IMASCREAMER: Yeah, those classes were awesome. And by that I mean they sucked. 

GROOVYGENES: Actually, my little sister drove us to Vegas. There wasn't much time for counseling to be honest. Though the Elvis that married us was quite nice, until he tried to shake my hand, and my alpha tackled him. But other than that, it was ideal. 

IMASCREAMER: LMAO I'm out of here, you stay groovy, man!

[IMASCREAMER has left chat]

DRHANK: I see. 

Charles frowns at the screen. He's never seen anyone sound disapproving via text before, and 'I see' is about as helpful as Raven's claims that he was 'overreacting.' He glares ineffectually at the computer screen in retaliation, before reaching out to type a response. 

GROOVYGENES: I cut myself shaving this morning, and when I went into the bathroom tonight, all my razors were gone and had been replaced with some kind of electronic travesty of a shaver that sounds like a trash compactor. 

GROOVYGENES: Anytime I go out he keeps calling me with FaceTime and wants me to leave it on the whole time. It's creepy. It's just his face, right there on my phone, staring at me wherever I go. 

FROSTEDICE: Oh, Sugar, he's got it bad. I say you really give him something to freak out about and see what happens. 

DRHANK: FROSTEDICE, that is not helpful. You know you've been banned. 

FROSTEDICE: You can't touch me and you know it. Anyway, someone's got to balance out your jargon. Come on, sweetie, talk to me. I'll help you out.

Charles frowns. He's certain FROSTEDICE doesn't have his best intentions at heart, but the idea is intriguing nonetheless, and more importantly, it's a plan of action. Charles needs to do something. 

GROOVYGENES: You think I should provoke him? 

DRHANK: GROOVYGENES, that is not a good idea. If you have an overly possessive alpha, provoking him will only make him more territorial and could have a disastrous effect on your future relations. 

FROSTEDICE: Honey, you're no fun. 

DRHANK: The best solution would be to condition your alpha. 

Charles leans forward, eyes wide. This had promise. He glances at the bedroom to make sure Erik hasn't woken up, and then turns back to the screen at the reassuring sound of subtle snores. 

DRHANK: Alphas are comforted by physical contact with their omegas. Touching them and staying close to them is the best way to calm them down. If you're discussing something they're not going to like, the best way to go about it would be to keep constant contact. 

FROSTEDICE: What he means, Sugar, is you should get him to agree to your demands whilst you fuck.

DRHANK: Absolutely not! Place your hand on his shoulder, put your arms around his neck, lean against him. That sort of thing. And then hold a rational discussion. 

FROSTEDICE: Yeah, you let me know how that goes, Sugar. And when you still don't get your way, come back and see me. I'll teach you how to wrangle an alpha right. 

[GROOVYGENES has left chat]

Charles shuts the computer down and then slips back into bed. Erik mumbles in his sleep again, before latching onto Charles like some kind of octopus, pulling him close with an arm around his waist and one of his legs thrown across Charles' hips in what was a surprisingly flexible feat. 

Charles sighs. He doesn't think lack of contact is his problem. 

Maybe he should listen to FROSTEDICE after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik reluctantly forces himself to get ready for work, and then sits down on the bed beside a sound asleep Charles. "Charles, are you awake?" he asks. "Charles. Charles." 

"Whaaa—?" Charles opens up one dazed blue eye and gives his best attempt at a death glare. Considering his hair is sticking up straight and his face is scrunched up in annoyance, it really ends up being more adorable than anything else. "Good lord, Erik, what time is it? Go back to sleep." 

"It's eight in the morning," Erik tells him fondly. 

Charles decides this only supports his case, and drops his head back on his pillow. "Like I said, go back to sleep," he says. 

"I have to go to work," Erik says, before taking Charles' hand and wrapping it around his phone. "Here's your phone, in case you need me." 

"I am a functioning adult, you know," Charles tells him in irritation, though the fact that he has moved the pillow over his head to keep out noise and light somewhat detracts from his assertion. "I got by without you for years. M' fine. Let me sleep." 

"Alright," Erik says, leaning down to press a kiss on Charles' bared shoulder before heading down to drive to Lehnsherr Steel Headquarters. He spends every stop in traffic wondering if he should just take the day off. He was the CEO. He could take a personal day. 

He texts Charles to ask him if he should come back home. Charles sends him back, in all capitals: OMG GO TO WORK

If Charles is frustrated enough to resort to text-speak, Erik decides he probably is better off going to work. He's still feeling twitchy when he reaches Lehnsherr Tower, and he barely spares a glance for his Executive Assistant as he pushes into his office and prepares to barricade himself inside. 

Unfortunately, she's too quick for him. "Oh, Sugar, you look like road kill," his assistant tells him pleasantly, pushing past him easily. 

Erik had gone through numerous assistants before finding Emma Frost. Usually, they hadn't lasted more than a day. Emma has been his assistant for three years, and Erik is pretty sure that if one of them is going to break first, it's going to be him. 

"Seriously, doll, you've got to get a grip," Emma says. "I know lots of newly imprinted alphas. They're all doing much better than you." 

"I'm fine," Erik insists. 

"Baby, your desk looks like a shrine," Emma says. "You're starting to terrify the natives." 

Erik glances at his desk. He counts the picture frames quickly. Seven wasn't a shrine, he was sure of it. Oh, who he was he kidding? Erik drops down into his chair and slams his head against his desk. "I think I'm defective," Erik tells her. 

"I've been saying that for years, but do you ever listen to me?" Emma asks, lifting one of the pictures with a perfectly manicured hand. "Mind you, he is adorable. I wonder what horrible things he's done to deserve you." 

Erik reaches over to rip the picture from her hands. "I'm serious," he says. "I think I have some kind of problem. This can't be normal. I almost had a heart attack the other day just because he cut himself shaving."

Emma froze, turning to look at Erik speculatively. "You got married in Vegas, didn't you, Erik?" she asks. 

"Yes, it was perfect," Erik says. He grins fondly for a moment before his expression goes dark. "Except for that damn Elvis." 

"And what was it you said your Charles did again?" Emma asks sweetly. 

"He's studying Genetics," Erik says, and narrows his eyes. "What's with the twenty questions?" 

"Oh, Sugar, you're worse off than I thought," she says, laughing nonetheless in delight. "Your little darling is quite at his wit's end how to deal with you." 

"What are you talking about?" Erik demands. "When did you see Charles?" 

"I didn't see him, exactly," Emma says primly. "There's a kind of online support group I occasionally peruse. To help me. With my issues." 

Erik is instantly suspicious. "Your issues," he echoes. 

"Well, I am an abandoned omega, am I not? Sometimes it's very hard to cope, and I like to live vicariously," Emma tells him. 

Quite apart from being abandoned, Emma had taken her former alpha, Sebastian Shaw, to the cleaners in a divorce that made headlines in two continents. Imprinted couples were rarely granted divorce, except in the most horrendous of situations. Erik's never been quite sure what Shaw had actually done to Emma, but her performance in court had been worthy or an Oscar. 

She'd taken him for more than half his worth, which was somewhere in the millions at least. Erik doesn't know why she's still working for him, unless it's just to torture him, which she seems to enjoy. 

"Emma, seriously, what are you talking about?" Erik demands. "Are you saying I've driven Charles to a support group?" 

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Emma says. "I don't know what you've done to that poor boy, but he thinks you're losing your mind. Now that I know he was talking about you, I can see he's clearly right to think so." 

"I can't help myself," Erik says, his voice verging on desperate. "I've already sent him eight text messages since I left for work." 

"Honey, you live five minutes away," Emma says. 

"I know," Erik says, rubbing at his eyes. "That's bad, right?" 

"Yes, that's bad. No wonder he's trying to figure out what to do with you," Emma says. "But never fear, doll, Emma is here. I _was_ planning on helping him drive his alpha mad—" 

"So that's what you're doing in a support group," Erik says, as it suddenly makes sense. 

"However," Emma intercedes sharply. "As it's you, I'm willing to actually help. Just this once." 

"I don't know if there's anything that can be done," Erik says pathetically. "I know, rationally, that I shouldn't be doing these things, but I _cannot stop_." 

"Stop being so dramatic. I've already laid the groundwork, as it happens," Emma says. "Rather unintentionally, of course, but we can work it to your advantage." 

"What groundwork?" he asks suspiciously. 

"I _may_ have advised Groovy Genes to provoke you, just to test your limits, see what happens," Emma says. "It's really quite fun to do."

"His screen name was Groovy Genes?" Erik asks warmly. "That's so Charles." He smiles for a moment, before looking horrified at himself for being so smitten. 

"You are so lucky I'm here to help you," Emma tells him. 

Erik returns his attention back to her with a glare. "Wait, you told him to provoke me? Emma, no, this is not good! He's making me nuts just…just doing ordinary everyday things. He tried to open a window and I tackled him onto the couch because I thought he was going to fall out." 

Emma laughs uproariously, leaning to sit on his desk for support. 

"Don't laugh at me," Erik says weakly. "We live in the Penthouse. It's a long way down." 

"Oh, Erik, you're just going to have to learn some self control," she tells him, when she finally stops laughing. "Dr. Hank's advice was pathetic, so Charles is going to take mine, which means he's going to bluff to see what you do. It's going to be something he knows you wouldn't want him doing, and you're going to be very calm, and tell him that's perfectly fine." 

"I don't think I can do that," Erik says in desperation. "What if it's not a bluff? What if he wants to…I don't know, ride public transportation? Do you know how many people might touch him on a subway?"

"Let's hope he comes up with something better than that," Emma says wryly. "It's most likely going to just be a bluff, not something he's actually wanting to do, so just keep telling yourself that and you'll be fine. It'll drive him crazy if you don't react like he expects." 

"I don't want to drive him crazy," Erik says. "I want him to be happy." 

"Crazy in a good way," Emma insists. "Not crazy like you're crazy." 

"Maybe I should just talk to him, explain that I'm _trying_ ," Erik says. 

"Trying doesn't count for anything," Emma says. "You have to show him you can allow him his space. That you respect him. You do respect him, don't you?" 

"Of course!" Erik says at once. "But…he's just so trusting, and I know how many horrible people there are out there and the things they'd like to do to him and—"

"Breathe, honey," Emma says kindly, before Erik can hyperventilate. "You can always try stalking, if you have to. But you have to at least give the illusion that you're not as creepily protective as you are or you're going to suffocate him." 

"And stalking isn't creepy?" Erik demands. "At least I'm honest with Charles." 

"Yes, so honest that you're freaking him out," Emma says. 

Erik frowns, but Emma has a point. If Charles is going to try a bluff with him, then maybe Erik can bluff right back. Erik used to be good at that, once upon a time. He used to be ruthless. "I can do this," Erik says, standing up. He accidentally knocks down the large blue gift bag that had been sitting beside his chair, and Emma's focus snaps to it like she has some kind of sixth sense. 

"What's this?" Emma demands. 

Erik, sensing disapproval, reaches out to clutch the gift bag to his chest. "This is for me," he says quickly. "It's my stuff." 

Emma gracefully gets to her feet and approaches. "I've seen you lie straight-faced to an entire boardroom, and now you can't do it to save your life," she says. "He really has ruined you utterly, hasn't he?" 

"I think his honesty is contagious," Erik agrees, sounding disconcerted. 

"What's in the bag, Erik?" Emma asks. She grabs it out of his hands without waiting for an answer and shakes the contents out onto the floor. It's no less than fifteen blue sweaters, each a different brand, all in slightly different hues and hems. "What on Earth?" 

"There's a hole in his favorite sweater," Erik explains. "And so I wanted to get him a new one just like it but there's so many different shades of blue and none of them quite match his eyes and have you even seen his eyes? Because they're unreal. My god, Emma, it's like—" 

Emma slaps him upside the head. "Snap out of it," she says. "Jesus Christ, you really are losing it, aren't you? You've got to control yourself, Erik. This is the kind of thing that ends with bitter divorce trials that last years and years and involve restraining orders. I can see the trial now. Your Charles turning on the eyes, saying, 'well, I was just opening a window, and out of nowhere—" 

"In my defense, he was sort of leaning out," Erik interrupts with a strained mumble.

"—he _tackled_ me,'" Emma finishes triumphantly, as she stuffs the sweaters haphazardly back into the bag. "I can't believe he didn't use that on Omega Online. That's hilarious. He was probably too embarrassed for you to even mention it anonymously."

"Please just go away," Erik tells her. 

"Fine, but the sweaters are coming with me, I'm giving them to charity," Emma says. "It's for your own good."

Erik wants to make a grab for them, but he restrains himself. "You don't really think he'll want to divorce me, do you?" 

Emma's hard exterior softens slightly. "Oh, honey, you're a catch, you know that," she says. "It's just that you're certifiable." 

"Out," Erik snaps, pushing her towards the door. "Take the damn sweaters, I don't care, just get out!" 

"That's a good sign!" Emma says brightly, and Erik slams the door in her face.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is a horrible idea!" Raven exclaims. "Who told you to do this?" 

"I don't know. Some person on the internet," Charles says dismissively. "But I think it has potential." 

"Potential for bloodshed," Raven says. "Look, Charles, I thought you were exaggerating, but obviously Erik is off his head. Maybe you should just humor him for awhile until he calms down." 

"But if I give him something to actually worry about, maybe he'll stop worrying about the ridiculous stuff altogether," Charles protests. "I can't imagine what he's going to be like after I get my doctorate and start working. It's bad enough when he knows I'm just sitting here working on my dissertation." 

"You mean sitting here not working on your dissertation," Raven says wryly. 

"Yes, well, be that as it may," Charles snaps. "I have to put a stop to this now. I can't allow a precedent."

"But how is going on a date with another man going to fix this?" Raven asks incredulously. 

"It's not a date! It's dinner with a friend, a handsome alpha friend, whom I've previously been intimately involved with, granted, but a friend nonetheless," Charles says. "And if Erik can handle that, he can handle anything." 

"But he's not going to handle this at all," Raven says in horror. "He's going to kill him. I sure hope your friend is imaginary." 

"Oh, he's quite real," Charles says. "I met him at my undergrad at Oxford, but he's still living in England, so perfectly safe." 

"Erik's like a billionaire, he has a private jet," Raven says. 

"If he finds out my friend is really in England he's going to know I haven't had dinner with him," Charles says reasonably. "This plan is foolproof!" 

"Well, you're half right, anyway," Raven says grudgingly. "What are you going to do if he snaps and decides to lock you away in some tower like Rapunzel?" 

"Grow out my hair?" Charles suggests. 

"You make jokes now, but who do you think is going to have to bail you out when this blows up in your face?" she demands. 

"The worst thing that will happen is Erik might try and do something like 'forbid' me from going," Charles tells her, complete with air quotes. "I'll laugh at him, go anyway, have a very nice imaginary dinner and maybe a few martinis, come back home, we'll fight, I'll say I'm sorry, he'll say he's sorry, and we'll get on with our lives." 

"And that's really what you think is going to happen?" Raven asks. 

"Yes," Charles says brightly. "Erik really is mostly talk. He frets and obsesses but he would never do anything to me I didn't want him to." 

"I know that," Raven says. "It's the rest of us I worry for." 

"Are you going to help me get ready or not?" Charles demands. 

"Okay, fine," Raven says, following him as he moves into the bedroom. He's already flung half his closet onto the bed. "Don't you think dressing to the nines is a bit much? Maybe you should wear one of your old man sweaters. Then maybe Erik won't freak out so much." 

"I don't have any old man sweaters," Charles says, glancing at her like she's lost her mind. "Anyway, no, he has to think it's a date-like atmosphere." 

Charles grabs a white dress shirt and black pants and goes to change in the bathroom. He comes back out and Raven is holding up a black waistcoat with a dark grey lining. "This should do it," she says, tossing it to him. 

Charles puts it on. He does all the buttons on the waistcoat, and leaves two buttons on the shirt undone. He holds out his hands and grins at Raven. "Well, what do you think?" he asks. 

Raven sighs. "I think this is not going to end well," she says.

* * * * *

Charles spends the rest of his day avoiding working on his dissertation and waiting for Erik to arrive, mostly pacing in the kitchen and reciting lines in his head. _Oh, I'm just going out with my old alpha boyfriend, nothing to worry about! What, this old thing? I wear this all the time._

When he hears key in the door, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, and runs his hands through his hair. Erik pushes through the door, before immediately swooping in on him, dragging him up against him for a searing kiss. 

After a moment he pulls back, holding Charles away from him to take in what he's wearing. He grins widely. "Are we going out?" he asks. 

"Just me, I'm afraid," Charles says, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he disentangles himself from Erik's grip. "I'm having dinner with an old friend." 

"Oh," Erik says, disappointedly, his eyes narrowing at the way he's dressed. It doesn't look like he's heading out for coffee. He grips the edge of the counter and narrows his eyes. "What friend? Anyone I know?" 

"Just an old friend from college," Charles assures him. "We used to be quite close, had a bit of a fling, you know, but we haven't seen each other in years." 

"A fling," Erik echoes, his hands tightening on the counter. 

"Yes, you know how it is in college, and he was a really sweet alpha, so we kind of just gravitated to each other. But that's all ancient history," Charles says casually, tilting his head as he watches Erik's reaction. "You don't mind, do you?" 

Erik plasters a wide, tooth filled smile in his direction, and Charles stumbles a back a little. "Of course I don't mind," Erik says, and somehow he talks without losing the smile, rather like a ventriloquist. "I think it's a great idea." 

"You do?" Charles asks, his casual expression slipping in surprise. "Um. Right. Of course. I thought so too." 

"I mean, it's an old friend, right?" Erik asks, and his knuckles have turned white. He keeps up the grin. "Not like it's anything I should worry about." 

"Well, of course not. I mean, we did date for awhile, but it was before we met, so it hardly counts," Charles says uncertainly. "I'm sure you've had others as well." 

"Others?" Erik asks tightly. "As in plural." 

"I'm not talking double digits or anything," Charles says earnestly, and then frowns. "Well, actually, there was—and—no, but that doesn't count, I think it's—" 

"Aren't you going to be late, Charles?" Erik interrupts sharply. 

"What?" Charles asks, his eyes snapping back to Erik's. "Late for what?" 

"Your dinner," Erik snaps. 

"Oh," Charles says. "Yes, right, of course. And you're sure you don't mind? At all?" 

"Not at all," Erik says. "Go have fun." 

"Okay. Well, goodbye, I guess," Charles says in confusion, biting the fingernail on his thumb a bit before spinning on his heel and slamming out the door. 

"Oh god," Erik says, prying his fingers off the counter before lunging for the phone to call Emma. "I did it, I did it, and oh god, he's going to have dinner with an alpha, _an alpha_ ," Erik says. "I think I'm going to be sick. I feel like I've just torn out my heart." 

"Well, darling, your new penchant for melodrama not withstanding, I'm proud of you," Emma tells him. 

"Maybe I should stalk him," Erik says. "Just a little." 

"I thought you decided it was creepy?" Emma asks. 

"I could hire someone," Erik says. 

"You're going to pay some guy to watch your husband's every move? Isn't that the sort of thing you're trying to prevent?" Emma asks wryly.

"You're right, that's a bad idea," Erik says. "This is all your fault." 

"You'll thank me later! He's going to have a whole new appreciation for you, darling," Emma says. 

"He had better," Erik snaps. "I know where you live." 

"Oh, honey, that was a lot scarier before I knew you spent your spare time shopping for sweaters," Emma laughs. 

Erik hangs up on her and drops down into the chair in the kitchen to stare at the clock. How long would dinner last, he wonders? Charles will probably only be gone an hour or two. 

Erik can totally handle an hour or two. He presses the palm of his hand against his eye to stop the twitching. 

Right. No problem.

* * * * *

"Can you believe it?" Charles asks, downing another shot, before leaning close to the rather attractive alpha sitting next to him. "He didn't _care_. I mean, who thinks that's a great idea? It was a horrible idea." 

"Well," the alpha said, "Maybe you should take advantage of the free pass? If he's careless enough to let you out of his sight, he deserves it. If you were mine, I wouldn't let you out of bed." 

"That's…somewhat offensive, but flattering all the same," Charles tells him, grinning bemusedly. 

The alpha, whose name was Sam, or Dan, or Tad, or something with three letters that Charles can't quite recall, motions for the bartender to bring them more shots. 

"I guess he just doesn't want me anymore," Charles says, leaning his head on one hand. 

"I think he's crazy. What do you say I make it up to you?" the alpha asks, as he starts to move closer. 

Raven pushes between them, leaning against the bar and flashing the alpha a feral grin. "My brother is delusional," she tells him sweetly. "His alpha would tear you to pieces just for being this close to him, so whatever you're thinking, I'd stop and start running while you still can." 

The alpha goes pale and then trips over his own feet to get away. Charles pouts at her. "Raven, that was rude," he says. 

"I just saved that guy's life," Raven snorts. "What is wrong with you? All you said in your text was that you're going to fly to England to have dinner with Jeremy after all." 

Charles frowns. "Yeah, I didn't think that plan through," he says. "Forgot my passport." 

"Probably for the best," Raven says, humoring him. "Charles, really, what happened? Did Erik go all alpha on you or something?" 

"No," Charles says forlornly. "No, he didn't." 

"So what's the problem?" Raven asks. 

"The problem?" Charles repeats, slamming his shot glass on the bar with more force than necessary. "I just said! He didn't care that I was heading off to meet another man at all! I mean it's not even been a month and the thrill is gone!" 

"I think maybe Erik's crazy jumped into you," Raven says, before catching sight of the empty shot glasses lined up on the bar. "Or maybe it's the alcohol. Just how many of these have you had?" 

"I don't know. I stopped counting at six," Charles says. "I've been doing everything wrong. Maybe I just don't have the domestic gene. I can't even cook except for Top Ramen." He rallies for a moment. "But I do make some good Top Ramen." 

"The best," Raven reassures him. "But, Charles, I thought you didn't want him following you around," 

"I don't!" 

"Or obsessing over every little thing you do." 

"I don't!" 

"Or freaking out every time you get so much as a paper cut." 

"I don't!" 

Raven sits on the barstool beside him. "But now you're distraught over the fact that he's being reasonable and not doing these things?" 

"Yes! Now you've got it," Charles says, reaching out to clutch her hand. "How do I fix it?" 

"I don't know," Raven says, taking Charles' latest shot to down it herself. "Maybe you should be on some kind of medication?" 

Charles lays his head in his arms and frowns at her. "But this was different, don't you see? I'd be upset if Erik wanted to go out with some other omega! I would probably try and invite myself along or stalk him there or something and he just…he didn't even care, Raven," he says brokenly. "He didn't care at all." 

"Charles," Raven says softly. "There's no way Erik didn't care. He adores you." 

"It was obviously a biological fluke," Charles says. "And now that the strength of the initial imprinting's worn off he hates me!" 

"Okay, that's enough, I'm calling Erik," Raven says. 

"Don't you dare," Charles says, sitting up abruptly. "He doesn't care what I do anyway. Can we just go home?" 

"Sure, come on," Raven says, helping him to stand. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you see him." 

"No, _home_ , Raven," Charles says. "I want to go with you back to Westchester." 

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Raven says. "Erik will worry. Let's call him at least, alright?"

Charles shakes his head. "No, I just, I need to think, okay? I can't do that around Erik. I can't _think_ ," he says. "He's just always there and I thought I knew how to handle him, but I don't know him at all. We really shouldn't have gotten married so fast. Dr. Hank says we should have had counseling." 

"Well, I'm not going to argue that you need that," Raven says, linking her arm with Charles' to lead him to the car. "Alright, we'll go home. But if your maniac husband breaks down the door looking for you, he's paying to fix it." 

Charles leans against her. "That would be romantic," he says. "It was supposed to be romantic. Stupid Frosted Ice." 

Raven laughs fondly, helping him into the passenger seat. "You're so drunk," she says, before closing the door and getting in to drive them home to Westchester.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's not back yet! I've been trying to call but he isn't answering—" Erik shouts as he opens the door. He realizes that he's on the verge of hysterics, but he hasn't been able to reign himself in. Calling Emma had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he rethinks it when she slaps him across the face. 

"Feel better?" Emma asks, strolling inside as Erik holds a hand to his burning cheek. 

The worst part is that he is thinking a bit clearer now. He shuts the door and leans back against it. "What if he's been abducted? By some crazed lunatic…or…or aliens!" 

"Oh, honey, he doesn't have to go out looking for crazed lunatics," Emma says. "He's living with one." 

"This is all your fault. You said this was a good idea," Erik says, and points at her in accusation. "But it's just screwed everything up. He looked so hurt when he left, just because I told him I thought it was a good idea that he—" 

"You told him what?" Emma asks. "I can see how that would be a problem." 

"What are you talking about?" Erik asks dangerously. "That's what you told me to do." 

"Yes, but I thought you would put up some resistance to the idea," Emma says easily. "You can't very well go about saying you're happy he's heading off with some other alpha, darling, that's just not done." 

"You didn't tell me that," Erik cries, dropping to sit at the kitchen table. Emma grabs two wineglasses from the cupboard before helping herself to a bottle of his wine. 

"I didn't realize I had to," Emma says. "It's common sense." 

Erik looks at the clock, and it's nearing eleven. "He's been gone for four hours. That's three and a half hours too long. That's it. I'm hacking the GPS on his phone." 

Emma sits down beside him, pulling the open laptop away from him as he reaches for it. "You'll undo everything if you do that. How about something a little less extreme?" she asks, before tapping away for a moment on the laptop. "Ah. Yes. Thought so." 

She turns the screen so Erik can see it. "I found him," she says smugly, and takes another sip of her wine. 

Erik squints at the screen. It's Omega Online. And the latest chat was submitted by GROOVYGENES. 

**GROOVYGENES: And he told me it was a good idea. He's obviously trying to be rid of me. What should I do?**

"He thinks I want to be rid of him!" Erik shouts in horror. "I'm going to tell him right now to come home." 

"Subtlety, Erik, please," Emma says. "Join the chat as some innocuous little user and suggest it to him. You'll only scare him if you barge in there demanding he return home at once. In any case Dr. Hank is a bit of a stickler for the rules. He'd probably ban you before you got out two words." 

Erik bites his lip and quickly registers, choosing the first user name that comes to mind. Emma leans over his shoulder and laughs. "Omega123? Sugar, that's so inconspicuous it's conspicuous. Can't you do better than that?" 

Erik glares at her, and then spitefully changes the 3 to a 4. "That better?" he asks. 

**[OMEGA124 has entered the chat room]**

**DRHANK: It sounds to me as though your alpha is responding to your request for more space.**

**GROOVYGENES: He was afraid to leave me alone in the morning when he went off to work! And then he's ready to let me head off on a date? There's definitely something wrong. I must have done something.**

**DRHANK: Maybe we should talk about why you felt the need to go on a date in the first place?**

**GROOVYGENES: It wasn't a real date, of course!**

"It was a fake date," Erik says in relief. 

"I told you," Emma says smugly. "You got all crazy over nothing." 

**GROOVYGENES: I just went to a pub. I did get hit on by some alpha, but it's not as though my husband would care.**

Erik sees red and he begins typing furiously.

**OMEGA124: What was his full name and home address?**

**DRHANK: Hello, OMEGA124. I would like to welcome you to our group! However, I ask that you please keep in mind that this group honors our users' right to anonymity.**

"See? Who talks like that?" Emma snorts. 

"Shh," Erik says. "Someone hit on him. On my Charles." 

"Easy, boy," Emma says. "You know some alphas get off on the married ones. I'm sure Charles can handle himself." 

Erik ignores her as he returns his attention to the screen. 

**OMEGA124: Yes, of course. I just wanted to make sure that GROOVYGENES was not hurt. Were you able to get home okay?**

"Is that subtle enough for you?" Erik asks Emma. 

"As a sledgehammer, doll," Emma says. 

**GROOVYGENES: I went home with my sister. I thought it best my alpha and I have some time apart**

"Oh thank god," Erik says. "He's with Raven." 

"So now you know he's safe, you should let him work this out on his own," Emma says. 

"Emma, if I take any more of your advice my life is going to be utterly ruined," Erik says, before leaning forward to begin typing in a frenzy. 

**OMEGA124: You should go home right away**

**OMEGA124: Actually it's dark so you should wait until morning**

**OMEGA124: Or just call your alpha I'm sure he'd come get you**

**DRHANK: OMEGA124, While we of course encourage communication, we need to be careful not to give unsolicited advice. GROOVYGENES listening to FROSTEDICE is what caused this problem in the first place**

**DRHANK: That said, GROOVYGENES, I do agree that communication is key. You should at least contact your alpha to explain your feelings and let him know where you are**

**OMEGA124: Yes do that**

**GROOVYGENES: I'm not sure he'd want to hear from me**

**OMEGA124: Nonsense. Call him**

**GROOVYGENES: This has been really helpful, but I think I should head off now.**

**OMEGA124: Wait! Call him!**

**[GROOVYGENES has left chat]**

"Five minutes," Erik says deadly serious. "He has five minutes to call me or I'm heading to Westchester." 

"I feel like you haven't learned anything I've taught you," Emma says sadly. 

Erik grins at her, all teeth, as he gets up to stare at the phone. "Don't be so modest," he says. "I've learned not to listen to you. And to never let you near Charles." 

Emma just waves a hand dismissively before turning the laptop back towards her, presumably to further torture the poor Dr. Hank under the guise of OMEGA124. 

"The phone isn't ringing," Erik says after three minutes, which is about all he can stand. 

"He probably thinks some psycho is cyber stalking him now as well," Emma says. "You came on a little strong." 

"Get up," Erik says. "I'm going to get him, so you have to leave. I don't trust you not to go through my stuff." 

"As though you're that interesting," Emma scoffs, closing the laptop and gracefully rising to her feet. "But just for the record, I _can_ pick a lock." 

"Out," Erik says firmly, herding them both out the door. 

"You're going to be back at square one if you go all caveman and try to drag him home," Emma calls after him, as he rushes towards the elevator. 

Erik doesn't wait for her, just hits the close door button so the elevator shuts while she is still a few feet away. She rolls her eyes as the doors slide shut on her and Erik sags against the elevator wall. 

He has to admit, the urge to go caveman is pretty strong—but that isn't what Charles needs. Dr. Hank is right. Communication is key. He will be reasonable and talk this over with Charles rationally so that Charles can realize how completely perfect for each other they are. 

He can always call the caveman thing Plan B.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the lovely comments and kudos! My internet access has been sporadic so I'm sorry I have not replied to each individually, but I assure you they have all been read and deeply appreciated. I almost have the ending edited and ready to post, so will try to have the rest of the story up sometime this week.

"You're making me dizzy, pacing like that," Raven says, looking up from her book to watch Charles make another circuit of the library. "Would you just call him, please? Isn't that what the internet people told you to do?" 

"Yes," Charles says miserably, fiddling with his phone. He glances down at it and winces when he sees he now has twenty-three missed calls. "But I don't know what to say! Omega Online was no help at all! They should have transcripts for situations like this or what use are they?" 

"Why don't you just tell him the truth?" Raven asks. 

"The truth?" Charles echoes. "Now you're just being ridiculous! I can't say I was only trying to provoke him, now that I've failed so completely at provoking him! I'll look like an utter twat."

"You won't just look like one," Raven tells him helpfully. 

Charles narrows his eyes at her. "You should get together with Dr. Hank," he says. "You could both discuss the various ways you can be spectacularly unhelpful to others." 

"Charles," Raven sighs, breaking off as the sound of the doorbell rings throughout the large mansion. She frowns, and Charles rushes to look out the window. 

"Oh god, it's Erik!" Charles says, biting his lip. "How did he find me?" 

"Yeah, it's a mystery," Raven says, as she comes to stand beside him. "Who would think to look at your family home, where your only living relative currently still resides?" 

"Raven!" Charles whines. "What should I do?" 

"I'd start with answering the door," Raven says, returning her attention to her book. "Before he really does break it down." 

Charles reluctantly winds his way down the stairs and to the door, before leaning flat against it as he stares out the peephole. Erik is leaning against the door on the other side, and Charles can just make out half his face. He looks exhausted, and his eyes are held tightly closed. Charles steps away from the door in surprise at seeing Erik looking so drained, feeling suddenly guilt-ridden and terrified. 

He's never been good at relationships; he's ruined every one he's ever had. Imprinting was supposed to make it easy—that's what everyone always said. Imprinted couples had the advantage of knowing they were meant for each other, so there were not supposed to be any doubts or worries or arguments or fights. 

Charles has to be the outlying factor here—he makes everything complicated, even when he doesn't mean to. 

"Charles," Erik says through the door, sounding just as anxious and worried as Charles feels. "I know you're there." 

Charles slowly opens the door, leaning against the wall as he stares out Erik. "Hi," he says hesitantly, which is perhaps not his most inspired opening line. 

Erik just goes slack with relief, his hands twitching at his sides like he's fighting not to grab him. "Are you alright?" he demands, looking Charles over head to toe, as though they've been separate five weeks instead of five hours. "You look pale." 

Charles frowns, furrowing his brow as he tries to figure out Erik's motivations. "I'm fine, I was just—dinner didn't go well—" he says, stumbling over his words. "Or at all, really. Erik, I'm sorry, I--"

Erik swoops in then, Charles' distress the only push he needs, and grabs him into his arms. "Me too," he says, holding him close. "I was just trying to give you the space you needed. It killed me to let you go but I thought it was what you wanted--"

Charles wraps his arms around his neck, resting his head against his shoulder. "I thought you were disappointed with me," he says. "I know I'm a terrible husband." 

Erik pulls back, framing Charles' face as he watches him with disbelief. "I could never be disappointed with you, Charles," he promises. "You're perfect." 

Charles laughs. "We drive each other nuts, you know we do." 

"We're supposed to," Erik tells him, as he backs him up against the door, knocking it shut as he presses him up against it. "But promise me you won't disappear like that again," he says. "Never again, liebling, I don't think I can take it."

"I promise," Charles says, before pulling Erik down to seal it with a kiss. 

"Ugh," Raven snaps, as she stops at the top of the staircase, "Charles, you still have your old room, use it!" She spins on her heel then, slamming back into the library and probably locking herself in. 

"I don't think I can make it upstairs," Charles says, his eyes unfocused, and still breathless from the kiss. 

Erik grins mischievously, and Charles yelps as he gets thrown over his shoulder. "I've got you," Erik says. 

"Erik, let me down!" Charles protests, but he's laughing. 

"I don't think so," Erik tells him brightly, hauling him up the stairs and to his old room, before tossing him unceremoniously on the bed. 

Charles sits up, looking at Erik in exasperation. "Feel better now that you've asserted your dominance?" he asks dryly.

"Much," Erik says, flashing him a wicked grin as he crawls over him. 

"You know, maybe I've been overreacting. It's actually kind of sweet when you do these things," Charles tells him, flashing a sly grin. 

Erik runs his hands along Charles' sides, suitably distracted. "I just want you to know I can take care of you. I'll protect you, from anything," Erik promises. 

Charles laughs, rolling them until he's on top. "I know, darling, but that's not quite what I meant," he says, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I think it's sweet you think you're in control."

Erik wants to protest this outrageous claim, but Charles' clever hands have already slipped inside his pants. He knows he's lost this particular argument before it even starts.

* * * * *

Charles didn't get hangovers the way most people did, but he had trouble with mornings in general, and it was always even harder to get him moving when he'd been drinking the night before.

Erik tries shaking his shoulder gently, but Charles only frowns in his sleep, batting him away. "Charles," Erik says, trying not to laugh.

Charles reluctantly forces himself to sit up, looking around his room in Westchester as though he can't figure out why they're there. "Is it morning already?" he asks, biting down on his lip to stifle a yawn. "It can't possibly be." 

"It's half past five," Erik reassures him. Charles looks at him like he's insane. "I have to go home to get ready for work. I have a meeting or I'd take today off," Erik continues quickly, to justify waking Charles in what he considers the middle of the night. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye." 

"Oh," Charles frowns. "You're leaving?" 

"Yeah," Erik says. "Do you want to come home with me or stay here for awhile?" 

Charles face scrunches up as he thinks about it, and Erik waits patiently and valiantly does not laugh at him. Charles is dangerous before noon. 

"I want to go with you," he says, pushing himself to his feet to grab up his scattered clothes. "Otherwise I'll be stranded here because Raven doesn't wake up until one." Charles says this with distain, despite it being a mere hour after the time he usual wakes up. 

"Well, next time maybe you should call me to pick you up instead of Raven," Erik says, and he can't help the edge that seeps into his voice. 

Charles ignores the warning in his tone easily, dragging on his pants and the white shirt, though he leaves the waistcoat on the floor. "I didn't know what to do with you," Charles says. "Everything's just happened so fast, I needed a moment to regroup." 

Erik frowns. "Are you sorry I came here?" he asks. "I was just so worried when you didn't come back—" 

"No, I'm glad you came," Charles says. Erik is sitting on the edge of the bed, and Charles walks to stand in front of him, settling in between his legs. Erik reaches out to grab him around the waist, just barely restraining himself from tumbling them back on the bed. He's going to be late as is. 

"Okay, good," Erik says, leaning up to kiss along Charles' neck. "Let's go home then." 

Charles is still tired enough that he tolerates Erik ushering him along to the car and bundling him in, before obsessively checking that his seatbelt is secure. Though the last part gets him an eye roll. 

Erik doesn't mind though, because Charles even forgoes their usual game of tug of war, and lets him hold his hand the entire drive.


	6. Chapter 6

When they get home, Erik heads straight to the shower while Charles stumbles blindly towards his electric kettle to make tea. Erik's feeling relieved and refreshed after his shower, everything in his world back to the way it should be. 

He heads into the kitchen expecting to find Charles contently sipping his tea, so is somewhat thrown to find him standing with his arms crossed, glaring at him so viciously it's as though he hopes to kill him with his mind. 

"Charles?" Erik asks in concern. "What's wrong? What's happened?" 

"What, exactly, is this?" Charles asks him coolly, holding up a wine glass, complete with a perfectly formed lipstick kiss along the rim. 

"Um," Erik starts, and Charles' eyes narrow. "My assistant was here. To give me advice. I mean, about you! About how to do the…best for you." 

"Your assistant," Charles repeats disbelievingly. 

"Right," Erik says. "My assistant. Emma. You remember. I've talked about her." 

The gleam in Charles' eyes sharpens. "I would like to meet this Emma."

"I don't think you'd get along," Erik says quickly. "We call her Frost the Snow Bitch. Well, okay, mostly it's just me that calls her that, but it fits."

"Frost," Charles repeats, his blue eyes lighting dangerously as he backtracks, and puts a number of pieces together in the second it takes Erik just to blink. "As in the _Frost vs. Shaw_ Emma Frost? Or as in Frosted Ice?"

"Oh, um," Erik says, sighing when no brilliant evasion comes to mind. "Both?"

"Both. You—you—" Charles breaks off with a gasp. "Oh my god! You're Omega124!

"Charles, I can explain," Erik says, in the hopes that saying it will bring some explanation to mind that doesn't sound creepy or overbearing or both, but his traitorous mind doesn't seem to be coming up with any. 

"I can't believe you," Charles shouts. "You're spying on me? Watching my every move? And all the time you're worrying about me you've been seeing a beautiful omega behind my back?" 

"I barely even think of Emma as human," Erik protests. "And she was doing most of the spying." 

"Don't lie to me, Erik," Charles snaps. "I remember the news coverage. She's gorgeous."

"I wouldn't say _gorgeous_...she's just…you know, like Snow Queen Barbie. Or something. If you're into that sort of thing. Which I'm not. Obviously." 

"Unbelievable," Charles snaps, stalking past him towards their bedroom. "I don't even know which part of this is worse." 

"Charles, wait," Erik starts, and when he sees Charles pulling clothes out of his closest, he's terrified for a moment that he's packing to leave. Instead he just takes jeans and his favorite blue sweater into the bathroom and slams and locks the door. 

"Charles! Charles, please open the door," Erik says, twisting the handle ineffectually back in forth. "I'm sorry! Let's just talk about this—" 

Charles lets him beg for about five minutes before he pulls open the door, looking remarkably put together. Charles sighs heavily as he leans against the doorjamb. "It's fine," he says. "I don't know why I'm even surprised." 

Erik doesn't think that 'I don't know why I'm even surprised' is quite the same as 'I'm fine,' but he doesn't know how to make this better. "I'm trying, Charles," he says. "I really am. I'm trying not to be crazy." 

"I know, and I'm trying not to be mad at you," Charles says. "I think I may have a solution." 

Erik braces himself for the worst. "Yes?" 

"I'm going with you to work," Charles says. 

"What?" Erik asks, nonplused. 

"Well, you like me to be with you, don't you?" Charles asks. 

Erik wants to laugh in relief. Charles is finally seeing that Erik goes crazy when he's apart from him, and is willing to put up with him. He pulls Charles close, about to respond, when Charles continues with, "And I can meet Emma." 

Erik freezes, as all his visions of barricading himself and Charles in his office go up in smoke. "Right. Look, Charles, the reason I haven't ever introduced you before is she's a horrible person." 

"I can hold my own," Charles insists. "And you say she's a horrible person, but you like her, I can tell. You listened to her, and you don't listen to hardly anyone. She's a friend, and quite frankly, she's the first one I've known you to have. So I'd like to know her."

"You only say you'd like to know her because you don't know her," Erik says. 

"Well, let's test your theory, shall we?" Charles asks sweetly, stealing Erik's keys and heading towards the door. 

Erik can't imagine which outcome will be worse—Charles and Emma butting heads, or Charles and Emma becoming friends. 

Friends, he decides, as he races after Charles. Friends would definitely be worse.

* * * * *

When Erik had first brought Charles to see his penthouse, Charles had been charmed. Charles had told him, very ingenuously, "It's quite cozy." As though his two-level 12,000 square foot apartment was some quaint little cottage.

Raven had finally taken pity on him and pulled him aside, whispering, "Yeah, we basically grew up in a palace. He's a little hard to impress." 

So Erik had stopped trying to impress him with his wealth, and in the midst of their whirlwind courtship, it somehow had happened that he'd never brought Charles to Lehnsherr Tower. 

"You mean you own the whole building?" Charles asks him, and Erik's heart clenches, because finally, he looks _impressed_. "I thought you just had an office. You always say, 'I'm going into the office,' not 'I'm going to my gigantic skyscraper to rule over my minions.'"

"It's not that gigantic," Erik says, tugging him inside. "And they don't like to be called minions. The politically correct term is 'intern.'" 

"Okay, interns—and why is it that your interns are all wearing the same sweater as me?" Charles asks. 

"What?" Erik asks, before glancing up to see that the interns are, in fact, dressed like Charles. All of them are wearing some variation of Charles' many blue sweaters. He sighs. Of course Emma would consider the interns as objects of charity. She probably believes she's done some magnanimous act of goodwill. 

That or she was trying to torture him. 

"Oh, I think it's casual day or something. Just, don't pay any attention to them," Erik says, tossing a wave to Logan, his security, as he ushers Charles into the elevator. 

Emma is waiting for him as the elevator door opens, wearing an all white power-suit and clutching a clipboard to her chest. She is the absolute picture of professionalism, though she has never once showed up to greet him at the elevator in this manner in the past. 

Logan, the traitor, has obviously called to warn her that Charles was here. 

Emma smiles sweetly at them. "Hello, boss," she says, false diffidence lending a musical quality to her voice that Erik hadn't realized she was capable of. "How are you feeling this morning?" She holds out a thermos. "Here's your coffee. A teaspoon of milk, no sugar, just like you like it." 

Emma has also never brought him coffee. Not once. He eyes the thermos like it might be poison. 

Charles clears his throat, before holding out a hand. "Since my husband seems to have lost the ability to speak, I'll introduce myself. I'm Charles." 

Emma puts the unclaimed thermos under one arm and takes his hand, shaking it firmly before letting go to continue to clutch her clipboard as though it were of some vital importance. Erik suspects it contains one of her mean-spirited caricatures, like the one she'd done of Azazel in accounting, with talons and a tail. 

"I know exactly who you are," Emma says politely. "Erik keeps your picture all over his desk. It's charming. We all call it _The Shrine_." 

"No one else calls it that," Erik says quickly. 

"Only because you don't let anyone else in your office," Emma says. "Which reminds me. Tony Stark is waiting in your office for your 7:00. I told him to make himself at home." 

Erik's eyes widen as he tries to contain his panic. "Charles," Erik starts. 

"Go ahead," Charles tells him. "I'm sure Emma will keep me entertained." 

"It would be my pleasure," Emma says, tossing him a crooked grin. 

Erik is torn for a moment, doing a quick situational triage—what was worse? Charles and Emma together, or Tony Stark unsupervised in his office? 

Then he remembers that one of his labs had blown up the last time Tony was left unsupervised in his building, and takes off for his office. 

Emma looks pleased at his panicked departure, and turns her assessing gaze over Charles. "So we finally meet," she says. "Erik has told me so much about you. Quite frankly, it was more than I necessarily needed to know." 

"Well, I'm afraid he's said very little about you," Charles says politely. "Although once I realized you also went by the moniker _Frosted Ice_ , it was almost as though we were old friends." 

"Figured that out, did you?" Emma asks, laughing. "Don't be angry, Groovy Genes. I was only trying to get you the space that you wanted." 

"You were trying to amuse yourself," Charles contradicts her easily. 

Emma grins slyly. "Erik's been misrepresenting you," she says gleefully. 

"How so?" Charles asks, pushing his hands in his pockets and blinking up at her. 

"He's painted you as this adorable innocent, but you're far too clever to be half as naïve as you pretend," she says, assessing him again with renewed appreciation. "In fact, I think you're rather dangerous. You should register those eyes of yours as a lethal weapon. Just how much _have_ you gotten away with?" 

Charles smiles and leans forward. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says. 

"I almost believe you, that's truly impressive," Emma says. "I think we're going to get on like a house on fire."

Charles laughs, ignoring the way Erik is anxiously peeking around door through the window of his office. Tony Stark is gesticulating wildly behind him, but Erik is just half-waving him quiet as he watches. 

"Why don't you come over tonight for dinner?" Charles asks her. 

"Will you be cooking?" Emma asks. "Because, honey, I've heard stories, and I didn't mean we should be literally setting things on fire." 

"We'll order in," Charles says, his enthusiasm not dented in the least. 

"It'll drive Erik absolutely mad," Emma says. "Are you okay with that?" 

"It's half the reason I asked," Charles tells her. 

Emma laughs in delight. "Oh, sugar," she says. "I'll be there."


	7. Chapter 7

After an awkward introduction to Tony Stark in which Erik acted as a physical barrier against any form of contact—including eye contact—Charles had stayed with Erik through lunch before heading home to stare at the half finished word document that was his dissertation.

Charles finally sighs and closes the laptop. He knows he's going to end up writing the whole thing the week before it's due anyway. He's already done all the research; this was supposed to be the easy part. 

"No luck?" Erik asks, when he gets home. He leans down to press a kiss to the top Charles' head.

Charles glances up. "I have almost three months," he says, in explanation. 

"Of course," Erik says with a laugh. "And what did you think of Lehnsherr Tower?" 

"Don't think you can distract me with your bizarrely large tower," Charles says. "Were you and Stark competing about who could build the tallest building?" 

Erik pauses. "No," he says, unconvincingly. 

Charles raises an eyebrow, before getting to his feet. "Regardless of how very impressive it all is, that doesn't change the fact that we need to talk," Charles says, then adds, just to be clear. "About the cyber-stalking."

"It was mostly accidental stalking," Erik protests. "Really it's Emma you should be mad at. I'm assuming you told her off?" 

"Emma is lovely," Charles says. "Also, she's coming for dinner." 

Erik goes pale. "What?" he says. "Here?" 

"Yes, you should have invited her yourself," Charles says in disapproval. "She does so much for you." 

" _To_ me," Erik protests. "She does stuff _to me_." 

"Erik, you can't keep blaming Emma for all our problems," Charles says reasonably. "However, I've come up with a plan. I've decided you're allowed one instance of crazy per day, otherwise you're sleeping on the couch." 

Erik blinks at him in horror. "You must be joking," he says desperately. "I've been averaging like twenty-five moments of crazy a day, and it'll kill me not sleeping in the same room as you." 

"Then I suggest you learn fast," Charles says. 

"Let's compromise, split the difference and say fifteen," Erik says sweetly, wrapping his hands around Charles' waist to pull him close.

"One," Charles repeats firmly. 

Erik's expression deflates. "Ten?" he tries.

"One," Charles says, pushing Erik away. 

"Five?" Erik asks hopefully. 

Charles pauses and then sighs. "Okay, five," he says. "But don't think I won't be counting. And I want my own shaver back." 

"It's a deal," Erik says.

* * * * *

Emma brings a bottle of wine with her and arrives exactly on time, winning Charles over instantly all over again and making Erik suspicious. 

"I'll just put it on ice," Erik tells her warily. 

"Please do, doll," Emma says, before winding her arm through Charles' and stealing off with him to the living room. "So, darling, have you and Erik talked through things?" 

"Well, we've come to a compromise," Charles tells her, as they sit down. "He's allowed five insane moments of protectiveness a day. If he's over his quota and he keeps being insane he's sleeping on the couch." 

"How did you get him down to five?" Emma asks, impressed. 

Charles shrugs innocently. "I started out with offering one so by the time we were done he thought he'd done very well," he says. Then he frowns. "My problem is going to be follow through. He really doesn't like sleeping in separate rooms. He gets all pitiful and pouty and usually I end up taking him back." 

"Darling, when they're pitiful and pouty, that's when you know you're doing it right," Emma says, assessing him carefully. "Be strong. Be ruthless. You give that crazy bastard an inch and he'll have you rolled up in bubble wrap and tied with a bow." 

"You should teach a class," Charles says dryly. 

"Oh, do you think?" Emma asks, sounding flattered. "How to Tame your Alpha, 101. I've certainly learned enough with all the hours I've spent trolling Omega Online." 

"Really?" Charles asks, leaning forward. "Anything I should know?" 

"Well, if you're planning to spawn, be prepared. Dr. Hanks says that during pregnancy, alphas tend to be at least twice as overprotective as they were during imprinting," Emma says, having absorbed quite a lot of Dr. Hank's advice, despite all her best efforts.

"That can't possibly be possible," Charles protests. 

Erik glares at her as he joins them, handing a glass of wine to her before dropping down to sit beside Charles. "You should not be teaching anyone _anything_ ," he snaps. 

"No?" Emma asks, grinning slyly as she raises her glass. "Are you not closer now than you ever were before?" 

"She has a point," Charles says. 

Erik leans against him. "Hmm, you think?" he asks him. "Does that mean you're ready to have some spawn running around after all?" 

Charles goes deathly pale at the thought of an Erik that is twice as protective. 

"We are never having kids," he decides firmly, reaching for his own glass. "Ever."

* * four months later * *

"We're always so careful," Charles whines, as Emma rubs his back and makes reassuring noises. 

Always, unfortunately, did not include one night the previous month—in which Erik and Charles had celebrated the completion of his dissertation in rather spectacular form. 

It was the first time they didn't use protection since they'd been together, but apparently it had been more than enough. 

"He can never know," Charles decides firmly, straightening up. 

"Honey, he's your alpha," Emma says. "He'll smell the difference in your pheromones within the next couple of days. And you know that. Anyway, you already texted SOS to Erik and Raven both, you know you're not getting out of this now." 

"Stop messing with my denial," Charles says pitifully. "My life is over." 

"It is," Emma agrees. "Erik's going to make your life a living hell for the next nine months. But think of it this way, once you have the baby, he's going to have another little person to direct some of those overprotective instincts at."

"That's true," Charles says hopefully, before frowning. "My poor kid." 

"I'm here!" Erik shouts, rushing in to the living room, eyes roaming all over Charles for any kind of injury. He takes in the puffy eyes and the way Emma hovers protectively and quickly pushes her out of the way to sit beside him. "Charles? What's happened? What's wrong?" 

"It's probably nothing," Charles says shakily. "I mean, those things are only like 99% right, anyway, so there's no need to fuss—" 

"Charles," Emma chides. 

Charles sucks in a deep breath. "I'm pregnant," he says. 

"You're what?" Erik whispers in awe, he gently turns Charles to face him. "Really?" 

"Barring that 1% chance," Charles says. "But considering I've spent the last few mornings throwing up I'd not take those odds." 

"You didn't tell me," Erik says disapprovingly. 

"He was in denial," Emma says. "If I hadn't caught him red-handed with the pregnancy test he probably would have gone on not believing it." 

Erik presses his hands to Charles stomach, gently framing it with his palms. "A baby," he says. 

Charles feels all his anxiety and worry disappear at that single word from Erik, because whatever happens, he knows they're in this together. All three of them, now. "Yeah," he agrees, looking down at his stomach. 

"A baby?" Raven shrieks, as she slams the door behind her. "Oh my god, I'm going to be an aunt!" She rushes over and throws her arms around Charles. 

Erik glares at her, grabbing her by the back of her collar to tug her away. "Be careful!" he demands. 

"You're not going to stick to the five rule anymore, are you?" Charles asks sadly. 

"I can maybe do fifty," Erik says, and kisses him on the forehead. 

"Don't worry, honey," Emma mouths over Erik's shoulder, and then tosses Charles a wink. "I've got a plan."


End file.
